


A Painter's Symphony

by junxouji



Series: A Painter's Symphony [1]
Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Platonic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:15:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2782829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junxouji/pseuds/junxouji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want to draw you nude." </p><p>When Yifan’s life crumbles apart, Yifan spirals a downward slope of heartbroken geniusness. The acclaimed cellist finds himself stuck in a ocean of depression unable to escape it’s thundering waves. It’s until he meets Tao, a stubborn and vulgar twenty year old painter, who pleads with the prudish and overly wound cellist to pose as his nude model that he’s forgotten how easy it is to breathe.</p><p>The man is blunt and Kris is unsure what is happening. "You know, draw you like one of my French girls." And all he can think is how that half smirk is so handsome and how moist his lips look with such nonsense coming from it.</p><p> </p><p> Tao smokes cheap cigarettes, drinks dollar booze, laughs loudly and has tactless tattoos of nude women on his arms. For someone like Yifan whose life revolves around being the first chair cello of The Seoul Symphony, Tao is a completely different world from him. But he feels as though with Tao’s smile, those tides do not threaten to consume him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Painter's Symphony

When Yifan’s life crumbles apart, Yifan spirals a downward slope of heartbroken geniusness. The acclaimed cellist finds himself stuck in a ocean of depression unable to escape it’s thundering waves. It’s until he meets Tao, a stubborn and vulgar twenty year old painter, who pleads with the prudish and overly wound cellist to pose as his nude model that he’s forgotten how easy it is to breathe.

 

Tao smokes cheap cigarettes, drinks dollar booze, laughs loudly and has tactless tattoos of nude women on his arms. For someone like Yifan whose life revolves around being the first chair cello of The Seoul Symphony, Tao is a completely different world from him. But he feels as though with Tao’s smile, those tides do not threaten to consume him.

 

* * *

 

 

 

His fingers tremble as the bow slides off the thickest string of his beautiful faded brown Duport Stradivarius cello. The ringing note fades in his empty living room quickly as his hand, still shaky, rests the bow down on the table beside him. He sits the prized instrument down as the bitter taste of nostalgia fills his mouth.

 

It’s the taste of faded glory. Of knowing that only a shower, a haircut and sobriety is all it takes to reclaim his former fame. Yet, Kris cannot find the energy to stand. He cannot find the energy to do much anymore. The boxes are still in the corner after weeks of the bare apartment haunting him with their memories, his fridge is empty not having the tolerance to face anyone, and his cell phone is dead somewhere probably with many missed voicemails of worried family or friends.

 

It’s the deafening thud on the door that somehow breaks his trance of staring at the bland white washed walls that makes him snap from his impending grey cloud. A voice he knows too well is easily heard from the other side of the front door:

 

“Kris Wu!” Baekhyun is yelling as if Kris doesn’t have neighbors. “If you don’t answer this damn door right this second I will have Chanyeol kick it open with his anime ninja crap and make Kyungsoo cook your balls on a open flame!”

 

He hears the muffled voice of Chanyeol, “It’s not crap!”

 

And Kyungsoo, “As if I would defile my kitchen with his balls.”

 

Kris is tempted to not answer. Because it’s not that he doesn’t love his friends-- because he does and he always will, it’s that their presence tires him. He has to smile. He has to pretend that the dull aching isn’t there.

 

He puts away his cello first since he doesn’t trust Baekhyun or Chanyeol near anything breakable and he flattens his hair some before going to open the door. Baekhyun storms past him, looking around for some evidence of what Kris had been doing ignoring his calls. Chanyeol follows with a sheepish smile as if he had no choice in the matter-- which is true. And then Kyungsoo punches him in the arm. Hard for someone of his size.

 

“I thought maybe you had gotten drunk and drowned in your own vomit.” Baekhyun deadpans looking a little disappointed Kris isn’t dead or anything major. Kris shuffles, trying to make his apartment look more presentable.

 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you but since I’m on vacation from work I thought why not take full advantage of it?” Kris mumbled knowing he wasn’t fooling anyone. They all knew why he wasn’t answering the phone, wasn’t going to work, or even hanging out with them anymore. It was like it was written on his forehead.

 

“You know Kris,” Baekhyun begins and Chanyeol groans knowing what the other is going to say, “Shut the fuck up Chanyeol, we’re all thinking it. Kris, why don’t you date? I mean is it healthy to be this caught up after her? It’s not the end of the world.”

 

It’s awkwardly silent. Kyungsoo puts Baekhyun in a choke hold because his boyfriend has the tendency to not sugar coat anything or have much consideration for how people feel. Not that Kyungsoo does either but he’s only going to tell you the truth if you ask. Baekhyun on the other hand spit verbal shit at anyone who would listen.

 

“What Baekhyun means,” Chanyeol corrects ignoring the two love birds bickering because Kyungsoo wouldn’t let him go until he apologized, “Is that we want you to come out with us tonight.”

 

Three sets of hopeful eyes are staring at him and Kris feels the pressure to please them. It’s a burden to want to get well again so your friends don’t need to worry. But all in all, he doesn’t feel up to it. It must show on his face because Kyungsoo sighs and adds,

 

“You don’t need to. Matter of fact, why don’t we just help you unpack or something?” He suggests to the boxes in the corner.

 

Kris shakes his head. “No, I am not up to even that.” The boxes hold some type of connection to her and she’s the last thing he wants to remember right now. He swallows. “I will go out with you all. But only for a while.” He’s too rigid and it shows. But none of his friends try to convince maybe it’s too soon, maybe he’s not ready, or maybe he’s not giving life without her a chance.

  
  
  
  


“All cleaned up, you look like a decent person.” Baekhyun says as Kyungsoo gives him the death glare making him resemble the small boy from the grudge and Baekhyun heaves a deep breath, “What? I cannot joke with him anymore?”

 

In a way, Kris is relieved. Because it’s painfully awkward as Chanyeol and Kyungsoo try to coddle him to death. He’s not dying, he’s moping. At least Baekhyun won’t change his personality for him. In a way, he supposes he’s grateful.

 

Baekhyun is perched on Kyungsoo’s lap doting on his bad tempered boyfriend, arms wrapped around Kyungsoo’s neck. Though Baekhyun acts needy and dramatic Kris is sure behind closed doors Kyungsoo is the bottom. He doesn’t mention it to them but him and Chanyeol share a knowing look.

 

There was a time when Baekhyun had gotten the idea to try and pair them up but the idea quickly died. It wasn’t that Kris didn’t find Chanyeol handsome, he did, it was just that the cheerful guy with big ears and a goofy smile that played too many video games and watched too much anime wasn’t his type. And he wasn’t Chanyeol’s type. (Chanyeol was into 2D yaoi guys-- frankly something Kris couldn’t compete with.)

Kris would say his type was prim and proper. A lady of class with a good taste for classical music. Pretty cuticles, well trimmed hair, and a love for fine wine. Good natured and impeccable manners.

 

‘Boring. Traditional.’ Was what came to mind when Kris thought about it.

  
  
  


He knew he had to eventually go back to work. He had already neglected his role as the first chair cello for far too long. He wasn’t behind in practice since all he had time to do was play but it seemed to drag the life out of him. Playing didn’t inspire him anymore. He wasn’t motivated or anything-- he simply played losing his element of passion.

 

It was noticed by the second chair cello instantly when Changmin stopped him the first time back in the symphony,

 

“Are you okay?” Changmin asks, “I know the divorce must have been difficult.” And Kris doesn’t think Changmin has any other motives other than worry for asking. Changmin was a nice guy-- unlike his partner Kyuhyun who reminded him too much of Kyungsoo but taller.

 

“I’m alright.” Because he wasn’t exactly okay. “Thank you for asking.” He added for politeness sake as he grabs his coat and cello case to head out.

 

He figures the only real dull part of his life was the fact everyone knew. He supposes it’s his own fault for marrying a well known actress. Their life had been sweet. He made a nice amount of money as a solo player who gained fame quickly in the world of classical music. He played for presidents, he played for celebrities, and he played for her. She was Korea’s Princess, sweet and kind and everything he had ever hoped for.

 

But somewhere he went wrong.

 

There were fights. There was lying. And eventually she found someone she preferred better. Someone who could “dedicate time and love towards her instead of his insufferable music”. Kris never got the chance to say his songs were for her.

 

Instead he lost his will to play. He played a note and it sounded flat. He played a measure and it sounded dull. The once great cellist had lost it. Playing for the symphony  was nice he suppose but Kris craved the spotlight. But right now, he was no where near close enough to be ready to play alone.

 

He took the same subway to and from work. He ate from the same dreary grandma’s shop. He went home to the same unpacked apartment and slept until he could sleep no more. Everything about him seemed pointless.

 

As if he could no longer breathe in the world around him. Suffocating slowly. Winding down a path of repetition and self destruction.

 

Until he climbed on the subway that day careful to not sit near anyone so he could lean his cello down and pull his scarf around his cold face tighter. There was a group of loud younger people bustling in from the cold Seoul streets climbing onto the subway talking much too loud. Kris was tempted to roll his eyes but he guessed they should enjoy their youth while they could. One day they’d be thirty-five year old divorcees who couldn’t even play a cello correctly anymore.

 

“Tao, don’t, you’re drunk!” One of them laughed as another slapped his hand away. The one called Tao shook his head and stomped forward coming right for Kris. But he seemed to miscalculate and slip-- right into Kris’ lap.

 

Kris caught him. But only because it was that or his skull would come crashing into the Kris’. His nose wrinkled. The other smelled of Tequila and a sweet cologne that wasn’t really something Kris would ever think to wear-- not as a man at least.

 

Tao’s friends came forward both laughing and apologizing profusely for their drunken friend. But all Kris could think of was how this Tao was much too close and didn’t seem to be wanting to let go. Kris’ eyes scanned his face noting a tongue ring and a eyebrow stud.

 

“Sweet Greek God.” Tao muttered, face flushed and words slightly slurred, “What I would do to paint your fine ass. God, you’re so fucking perfect.”

 

Kris’ face flushed as well but not from alcohol. He was certain this Tao was nearly half his age and sputtering nonsense. He swallowed and tried to pry him off but the skinny dark haired boy wouldn’t let him go.

 

“I’ll pay you.” Tao said and Kris wasn’t sure what the other was offering to pay him for. “Please just a few hours of your time.” And Tao boldly gripped Kris’ chin tilting it upwards as if to examine his face. It was a much too personal action for Kris who hadn’t been this close to anyone since his ex-wife. He reacted and pushed the drunken teen off.

 

He scoffed and stood, eyes narrowing at the teen daring him to try anything else like that. He couldn’t summon words so he didn’t. Instead he moved to get off on the next stop and walk the right of the way home the boy long from his mind when he reached his apartment.

  
  


The first thing Kris noticed when he looked up from his cello in the symphony practice in the grand theater in downtown Seoul was the teen with dark hair and facial piercings.  Thankfully the conductor hadn’t noticed before he left. People were already heading out, gathering their instruments. Kris cringed mentally at the worn leather jacket and ripped jeans dirtied with what looked like paint. The teen’s eyes were trailing over him like he was a piece of meat. It made him strangely uncomfortable but also curious.

 

Kris carefully packed away his cello doing his best to ignore the other male. It was when Kris used the steps to go from the stage to the audience to get to the exit doors the male stepped in front of him.

 

Tao had come with a purpose. It was a yearning he thought. But no one but the god would do. It was rather easy to find out where he worked. Where else would a man with a cello work in the middle of downtown Seoul? He shoved his hands in his pockets blocking the other man’s escape. For such a handsome man, he seemed pretty rigid.

 

Kris paused as if he was trying to contemplate what to do. Or how to call the police without the other knowing. After all, things like this didn’t happen to boring Kris. Not in his world.

 

“I want to draw you nude.” Tao unceremoniously blurts out loud. He realizes how blunt and how odd it must sound to the other. But for Tao it makes perfect sense. If a man only had wine to live on he’d want the best and finest wine, right? If an artist like Tao was to create something he was going to need the best muse possible. And the other male was his walking god. He needed him someone else needed air. “You know, draw you like one of my French girls.” Kris thinks he says it to be funny. But all he can think of is how that half smirk is so handsome and how moist his lips look with that nonsense coming from them.

 

“Nude?” Kris asked rather flat as if he misheard.

 

“I know it must sound crazy to you right?” Tao asks intimately talking with his hands, wishing them through the air excitedly, “But I couldn’t get you out of my mind. Have you seen yourself? I just want to paint every fucking indenture and curve on your body.”

 

Kris tries to not turn red but he hasn’t heard someone speak so passionately about him in such a long time it’s nice. He knows he’s a handsome man. But he knew his personality usually killed each and every prospect that came into his life. “Why nude?” He questions.

 

“My specialty is the body.” Tao says, “We could do it at my art studio so it’s not like creepy. You are like my muse gifted from heaven. You inspire me so much. Beautiful.” Kris knows he’s flushing now. “Please. I’m a desperate man.”

 

Though Tao is wearing unseemingly tacky clothes, his skin is marked with tasteless tattoos, and his hair is a mess-- Kris finds himself willing. After all, anyone willing to feel more passion about his own life than himself deserved something. Anything. Because he could suddenly breath again.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He isn’t sure why he even agreed. There is the lingering feeling of understanding considering Kris is an artist himself. He knows what it’s like to feel inspired so he finds it remotely flattering. Then there was the undoubtable recklessness of it all. He suppose Baekhyun would be proud of him if he knew-- he was doing such a unKrisworthy thing.

 

He shuffles a little uncomfortably in the other’s presence unsure where to stand or what not to touch the following afternoon when he doesn’t panic and run but instead heads to the rundown studio apartment in the middle of downtown Seoul. Tao’s place feels like a misplaced piece of art in a shitty neighborhood.

 

The wallpaper is peeling. The couch looks like a hand me down and the coffee table certainly had a few bumps in the once beautiful wood. The scent of cigars cling to everything with the dull scent of lilac and honey hanging in the air.

 

But even so, Kris finds himself liking the paintings scattered on the wall. The once of the ocean reminds him of the faint salty breeze of his hometown on the coast of China. The firey naked woman reminds him of what it’s like to fall in love. And the carefully painted harem of nude people makes Kris wonder how many people inspired Tao before because everywhere he looks Tao has painted someone.

 

“Do you want a beer or something?” Tao asks with a tilt of his head. Today he is wearing a god awful jean vest with flakes of paint on it over a dark t-shirt. His ripped jeans aren’t a fashion statement and Kris is supposed the man looks so good in the worn loafers he’s wearing.

 

“No, I don’t drink.” Kris says and frowns a little. His eyes glance to the door for a second and Tao beams at him.

 

“Don’t you think of running!” Tao laughs as he sets up his easel in the center of his livingroom. He spreads a large canvas over it and gestures for Kris to sit on the couch.

 

Kris does so but cannot manage to get the fluttering butterflies from his stomach. “Should I undress now?”

 

“No, just relax. You’re as stiff as a board.” Tao says with a slight smirk. “You don’t do stuff like this often do you? Trusting a complete stranger, huh?”

 

“Evidently.” Kris says wishing he was more outgoing but the other seems to speak enough for the both of them.

 

Tao sighs longingly. “Just take your time. Take off what you’re comfortable with, ya know? I got all day. But there isn’t anything to be uncomfortable or embarrassed about-- certainly whatever God out there that does exist he blessed you with great features.”

 

Kris tries to not flush but it’s undeniable. Another man speaking so freely of another’s beauty seemed scandalous. At least for the prim and proper cellist, this all seems like some weird dream that will fade from his fingertips.

 

Kris unbuttons his shirt slowly. He never really took what thought of his body. He ate well and got regular exercise but only because it benefited him in the end. Good health meant he would have more stamina when he practiced the cello. As well as the only thing he did besides play music was take care of his ill tempered cat he had named Elsa.

 

He could feel the other’s eyes on him as he slid the shirt from his shoulders. It was nearly impossible to ignore as Kris purposefully looked anywhere but at Tao. He took to counting the scratches on the coffee table. Surprisingly Tao didn’t comment on his undressing as he expected him too. Instead his gaze seemed to say it all: beautiful.

 

Kris unbuttoned his pants, his shoes already left at Tao’s doorway.  He neatly folded his pants and shirt, sitting them on the old coffee table before swallowing. He hooked his thumbs under the elastic of his boxers and just removed them. He followed suit with his socks and finally spoke, “What should I do with my body?” He asked.

 

Tao’s eyes never really left his body for a second. It was the silent kind of appreciation that made Kris feel warm. Not to mention uncertain.

 

“Just,” Tao’s voice was slightly hoarse, “Just sit and do what is natural for you.”

 

Kris was good at sitting. It’s what he had done alone in apartment since he could remember. Kris rationalized he had only agreed to this because in the back of his mind he was tired of just sitting, he wanted to live a little. He wanted to prove to himself he could be the man she had wanted him to be..

 

Kris was addicted to trying to be invisible. And in front of the other nude, Tao finding something worthy of painting-- he felt slightly more vulnerable.

 

“You’re stiff.” Tao commented after moments of silence. “Loosen up.”

 

“Sorry.” Kris mumbled. He tried to relax some. Even though Tao was the direct opposite of him he at least knew the other wasn’t critical or judgemental.  He could visibly relax a little. After all, all he had to do was sit there.

  
  
  


“You’re acting funny.” Baekhyun says after shoving a spoonful of the cake drowned in whip cream into Kris’ mouth.

 

Kris hacked up the food, covering his mouth, eyes narrowing at his friend. Kyungsoo slapped the back of Baekhyun’s head. “Exactly how am I acting odd?” Kris inquired. Kyungsoo and Baekhyun’s apartment was like a clash of the two’s personality. Chanyeol sat at the table looking too tall and too big for the petite sized chairs.

 

“Well for one you’re not playing your damn sad songs on your ancient cello.” Baekhyun says as he smiles faintly, eyes twinkling meaning his friend was up to no good. “And I called Changmin because you know I worry-- And he said, you seem less distant. I mean you’ve been this way for two weeks… When were you going to tell us?”

 

Kyungsoo and Chanyeol are looking at him expectantly.

 

“And exactly what am I suppose to be telling you three?” Kris asks sipping the bitter coffee Kyungsoo had served him.

 

“Changmin says a dark haired punk keeps picking you up from practices.” Baekhyun says and Kris winces. “He said he has piercings and tattoos.. What kind of company are you keeping?”

 

Kris sighs. “It’s not what you think.”

 

“Then what is it?” Chanyeol asks, “I thought you would tell us something like this.”

 

Kyungsoo nods in agreement.

 

“What am I suppose to tell you? Nothing is going on, at least not what you’re suggesting. Even if it was, it’s not something I have to report to you guys. He’s a friend.” Kris says firmly.

 

“We’re your friends Kris.” Baekhyun says.

 

“I can have more than just you guys.” Kris says bitterly. “I’m not gay. And the guy is just a friend. You’re not my mother or my wife. I don’t need to tell you everything.”

 

“I want to meet him.” Baekhyun says.

 

“And I want a great cello solo but we both know we cannot always get what we want right?” Kris mutters. Baekhyun looks like he’s going to argue but Kyungsoo puts him into a headlock.

  
  
  


“Raise your leg up.” Tao’s soft voice breaks the silence Kris has become accustomed to.

 

It’s hot. The window of Tao’s apartment is glaring sunlight down on Kris’ nude body, warming it to the touch. Kris does it even if the new position is slightly embarrassing and he wonders why Tao insists to draw him so scandalously. Moreover, Tao refused to even let him see the painting until he was finished.

 

“You know,” Tao begins, “I learned something in art school. The human body never lies. I would paint a woman whose body was haggard from life and I kind of just knew that her life was hard.” He says slowly, “I just wonder what makes you so stiff and tense as if you’re afraid to let go and live a little. I’ve been drawing you for half a month already and you still haven’t warmed up to me.”

 

Kris chews his lip. “I think my body is reluctant to trust.”

 

“Your heart can fool you. But your body often knows the truth.” Tao mutters, “I hope you begin to trust me. Life is too long to go through it afraid and stiff.”

  
  
  
  
  


Kris drops his eyes resting on the sofa tiredly. The evening’s practice had been longer than expected and he had to cancel on Tao’s painting that night. It left him with nothing to do and much to think about. After all, Tao had been the best type of distraction those last few weeks.

 

Without said distraction he felt odd. Almost as if the protective shell around him was slowly breaking. How long had he pushed her from his mind? He peered at the boxes in the corner of the room hesitantly. A thickness formed in his throat. He knew it was all in his mind and that metaphorically the box was suppose to symbolize something important in his life. He had wallowed away watching too many Hallmark movies to not know that.

 

What could some metaphorical boxes truly mean in his life? He moved from the sofa slowly to the boxes that remained untouched. He bent down and pushed open the cardboard flaps. It’s like the metaphorical karma slapped him in the face because laying on top was a picture frame. It was their honeymoon photo. Kris had always had a weakness for beautiful people. She had been the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. The soft long black hair, gentle brown eyes, and sweet rosy cheeks-- She was a Korean beauty.

 

But he had learned quickly that beauty was often given so stupidly and recklessly. He had fallen fast-- especially when she laughed. How God could put such a cruel heart into such a beautiful body he wasn’t sure.

 

When the doorbell hummed through the apartment he dropped the picture safely back in the box and shut it, closing her out of his mind for good. Instead of unpacking those boxes he imagined it would be easier to throw them away. He turned wiping his eyes, the slight burning sensation worrying him as he went to open the door.

 

The last person he expected was Tao.

 

For one he had never told the other where he lived. Secondly he had cancelled on him today. But Tao smiled greeting him with a quick hug and sauntered in without so much as an invitation.  
  
“I know you said not today but I just really needed to come, ya know?” Tao asked and held up a six-pack of beer. “I bought a house warming gift. Wow your place is so bland.” Tao says as he looks around the simply furnished apartment. “Strangely it’s so like you. I was expecting a cello collection to be across the wall or something.” Tao chuckles at the thought.

 

Kris swallowed. “Uh no, unfortunately quality instruments are too expensive.” And he’d much rather have one nice cello he treasured than a few-- it felt more personal and special.

 

“Why were you crying?” Tao asks outright and the other’s bluntness surprises him because Kris was sure no one could tell.

 

“Dust. I was messing with some boxes but they’re all trash it seems.” Kris says as he moves to take a seat, “Why did you come? How do you know?”

 

“I asked Changmin.” Tao only answers one of his questions and removes his jacket. He takes a seat next to Kris. Like usual Tao is wearing a old ripped t-shirt with some grunge band across it. His tattoos across his arm are colorful and vibrant-- Kris imagines they hurt. His jeans are too tight and his shoes had spikes. Kris isn’t sure he’s ever met a person like Tao. Tao hands him a beer and Kris takes it carefully. Tao turns to him and clinks his beer against Kris’ in a makeshift toast. “To us. To you, man. For being the best fucking muse there is.”

 

Kris flushes but sips the beer nonetheless. Tao still hasn’t said why he came. Maybe he was lonely? Kris can understand that.

 

“You know Kris? I was thinking something the other day. Like wow, I have the finest piece of man in front of me yet I know nothing about you.” Tao says his Korean less than perfect as he smiled and chuckled into his bottle. “All I know about you is your body. I know there is a mole on your inner thigh, a light scar on your waist, that your toes curl when you’re uncomfortable, and that when your cold your nipples pucker up really quick--” Kris cannot help but blush as he coughs, “Yet I know nothing about you.”

 

Kris swallowed the bitter tang of the alcohol. “There isn’t much to know.” He says. “I’m just a cellist with no other real talents. Unless watching netflix or ordering takeout require any skill.”

 

Tao smiles. “I’m sure there is more to you than that. Like where you’re from? You’re Chinese right? Your real name.”

 

“Yifan.” Kris replies. “I’m from Canada so Kris was always easier there.”

 

“See?” Tao asked, “I already know much more about you.”

 

Kris takes another sip. Tentatively. “And what about you? You haven’t really said anything about yourself. I know you paint.”

 

Tao pauses and grins slightly. “Well, I have a messy apartment. I like rock music. Never fucking cared for school. Wine is my guilty pleasure. Never really was a fan for chick flicks. And I got this crazy crush on a guy I paint-- he’s magical you see, fucking sexy as hell but his eyes are all empty like you get when you’re heartbroken, and no amount of booze can make me forget what he looks like naked.”

 

Kris’ lips parted.

 

“You see, I am not sure when I dream of him if it’s a nightmare or not. I ache with such a need. I never feel okay. I cannot drink him away. I want more and more but I know I will just scare his bruised little heart away.”  Tao turned to Kris. His tone was light but his voice was serious. “I want to know everything there is about him, every single thing. And most importantly, I want to wash away the pain I see tensed in his body. So he can trust again. To trust me, ya know?”

 

Kris swallowed again. His eyes lowered at the ground. Suddenly his chest felt warm and his heart fluttered at the confession. “For starters he’s a sucker for romance.” was all that Kris could manage and he heard Tao laughing because they both knew it was Kris’ personal way of accepting what Tao had said.

 

“Well would he mind a kiss?” Tao asked and Kris’ stomach flipped.

 

Kris looked a the damn box in the corner wondering what it could possibly mean. Then he decided after a second he didn’t care. Some boxes were better left unpacked and put in storage after all. Just because she had hurt him, didn’t mean Tao would. And if he did, well, it was a part of life right?

 

If the roots of a tree represented pain and the branches represented happiness-- both had to grow so the other could as well. They had to co-exist. Just because he hurt, didn’t mean he’d never feel happiness again. Hell, he could better appreciate a person like Tao who was certainly nothing like what he imagined himself with because he had been hurt.

 

“Yes. He would love that.” Kris managed.

 

And when Tao’s lips pressed against his he saw fire.

 

It clicked. There was no meaning in the metaphorical boxes-- no meaning unless he gave it meaning.

 

 


End file.
